Saffron Blues
by backpack bootswiper map
Summary: My own face is F Word.
1. 1

You know. Saffron City started out like most cities in Kanto. Pretty small farming community out in the middle of nowhere. This was like, hundreds of years ago. Well okay, actually more than two thousand years ago, but who gives a crap. Saffron, like most cities in Kanto, was settled during the whole government push to move the population eastward from Viridian and Pewter. Anyway, just so happens that about a hundred people happen to settle in the same place, which would later become Saffron City. Not a bad location, they figure. In the middle of the wide-open plains. Plains were pretty much a new concept to everybody, since it's not like Johto has enough room in it for two people to take a shit at the same time.

But the early years of Saffron were apparently hellish and poorly documented. Settlers were fooled into thinking that the plains experienced mild weather, because when winter rolled around it was much better than winters in Viridian had been. Only a little snow. Maybe for like a few days, before it all melted. Barely dropped below freezing at all. I obviously wasn't there. I wouldn't know. I've spent some time in Saffron so I can only guess as to what it was like back then. So the winter was mild. The real trouble started when spring rolled around, and the sky suddenly went black and a giant rotating column of death ran the city over. And whatever was left of it got alternately burned down and washed out by the following storms. Nobody had any idea what the hell was going on.

So after a straight week of squall after squall, with all the hundred settlers cowering in a ditch or something, suddenly the sky cleared up. Just as it began, it ended completely unannounced. And then while everybody's finally looking outside to see if there's anything left of the town–and it's likely that there wasn't–the sky went dark again and the whole cycle repeated. Again and again. Who knows how many times. Again, I wasn't there. But spring in Saffron City is when Mother Nature goes on the rag and attempts to kill everything that moves.

A lot of people packed up on their Tauros and moved on while they could. Other people had already killed and ate their Tauros, so they were fucked. But as luck would have it, it was just about time for Mother Nature's stanky pussy to air out, and air out it did. Sky goes clear, air dries out. And it finally got hot without fluctuating in temperature like it had during spring. Maybe they didn't realize it right at the time, since there were more important things to do like attempting to find your claim of land underneath all the fuggin' rubble. But turns out the savannah where they settled is the perfect place to grow saffron crocuses. At the time saffron was the crop equivalent of gold, mind you. One wet season, one dry season, doesn't drop below freezing too often, doesn't go over one-hundred too much. If you're a saffron bulb, that shit sounds like paradise. If you're a resident of Saffron City, well, all you have to do is find some way to survive the spring seasons and bam. You're in business.

So in the years to come, the settlement started racking up an insane amount of money. Enough to at least buy some buildings that weren't made of wood. Fast forward to the present day, and nobody really grows saffron anymore. Maybe over in Lavender where there's a little more room. Saffron, on the other hand, is the cultural and business hub of the whole eastern region. The biggest city in Kanto.

And its existence only serves the purpose of pissing me off.  
Really.

Vernon and I have been sitting in this van for who knows how long. Hours. Many more than it should take. We've barely driven twenty miles from the train station, and we're stuck in traffic on the A35 Beltway. Just staring at taillights all day. Blaring The Melvins on the stereo. Not that I particularly like that band or anything, but it was in the company car when I got it, and now we're in the company car with it.

After Vernon successfully takes a fat hit from his pipe, he speaks.  
\- - - Hey Nolan. Did you know that over 40% of all Pokémon trainers report that their first sexual experience was with one of their Pokémon?

This is Vernon Danforth. He is one of the best journalists in the whole goddamn circuit. Based in Goldenrod, because he is under the firm belief that Kanto is for fags. He is probably right. Some would say he's downright evil. He's got what it takes to be a legend. He's got a marvelous persona. If you can recognize what I'm quoting there, I like you already.

\- - - What.  
\- - - In fact, half of that forty say that all their sexual experiences have been with Pokémon, and that all their sexual experiences will be with Pokémon.  
\- - - That's disgusting.  
\- - - Right? But it makes sense if you think about it. I mean, you're sending these pre-pubescents off into the wilderness alone to take care of an animal, which is a big responsibility in itself. But then all of a sudden they hit puberty, and who do they have to take it out on? No one, except these little tiny animals that have been their only friends for two or three years already. Pokémon don't say no. Pokémon don't say anything except for their fucking names. That's why they really have to raise the minimum age one can become a Pokémon trainer. Fuck it, maybe even all the way up to eighteen. Give the kids a high school education first.  
\- - - And people wonder why this country is suffering from such a high illiteracy rate.  
\- - - Took the words right out of my mouth. Another pleasant effect is that way you'll stop people from becoming sick fucks like Koga. Did you watch the tape?  
\- - - Nah, can't say that I did.  
\- - - Really. I thought that everybody had seen it by now. Aren't you from Fuschia? You're pretty much fucking obligated to watch it, you fag.  
\- - - I'm from Vermilion.  
\- - - Oh. Haha. How are the hurricanes.  
\- - - Up yours.  
\- - - Anyway, the whole scandal kind of peaked my interest because I always wondered how Koffings have sex. The thing's just a giant orb of smog with a gay-ass grin on its face, like, how the hell does it hump another Koffing, much less the gaping anus of a soon-to-be ex-gym leader faggot.  
\- - - So wait, does he like, take it up the ass from a Koffing?  
\- - - You would think, since the way I thought it all of his Pokémon were male. But as it turns out, the blowholes on the Koffing give you some super pleasurable sucking sensations–  
\- - - Oh god. That's fucked up.  
\- - - Well that's what he told the camera, anyway.  
\- - - Why the hell would somebody tape themselves doing that? Much less a celebrity–

Vernon tells me to shut up with one finger so that he can take another hit from his pipe. Can't blame him. Meanwhile, I'm just pressing the brake down. Letting it go for a second, then pressing it down again. Stuck behind a giant truck, watching its fake testicles bounce up and down. Some hick asshole over from Lavender. Probably here for the Pokécontest, just like everybody else.

Just like me and Vernon.  
Now's as good a time as any to snort a bunch of OxyContin and pretend I enjoy being alive.


	2. 2

\- - - Hold the wheel for a second?

We're not going anywhere, but I catch his drift. Just in case we do start moving in this traffic jam. I grab the wheel as he doubles over, snorting Oxy off the CD case in his lap. The Melvins are going blind, and I try in vain to get a cherry off the glass pipe in my hand. It's already out.  
Nolan shoots back up like he's surfacing from the ocean, breathing in deeply, savoring it as if he's been without.  
Laugh as he grabs the wheel at ten and two as if nothing's going on. Everything is as it should be. Let go of the wheel, myself and light my pipe again.

It hits me a lot stronger than it should. Sometimes I lose focus.

\- - - People tape themselves at their worst as proof to themselves that it isn't a fantasy anymore.  
\- - - This day and age, it's hard to tell the difference.  
\- - - Yeah, exactly. Guarantee you he didn't think anyone would ever find it, or even the concept as a possibility.  
\- - - Eh?  
\- - - I mean. Uh. He didn't even consider anyone finding it in the first place. Like, that wasn't even an idea to him at the time. He taped it to watch himself, to remember that moment for as long as he lived. Others weren't even considered.  
\- - - It's still disgusting.  
\- - - Quite a world we live in, eh Nolan?

He doesn't say anything and I don't blame him. I'd keep my mouth shut, too, if I had it in me. Nolan's good people. He reminds me a lot of myself, only he's more reserved, polite and thinks things through. I have a bad habit of kicking doors in and blundering my way through any given situation. It's gotten me as far as I've gotten, but I couldn't tell you if that's a good thing or a bad thing.  
Conceal the pipe within the armrest and dig a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket on the left side of my button up shirt.

\- - - You know smoking is bad for you, right?  
\- - - He says, lighting a cigarette.  
\- - - I say, lighting a cigarette. I'll narrate my own goddamn life, thank you.

It's a writing joke. You probably don't get it. Or maybe you do, and it just isn't funny.  
I could sense you weren't laughing.

\- - - Why journalism?  
\- - - Why not? Shit, kid. People, they say my view of the world is distorted, and they still eat it up like candy. They love to hate me and hate to love me. It's how my existence works. It's how it's worked for a very long time.  
\- - - I wouldn't expect any other kind of answer.  
\- - - Perhaps I'm too predictable.  
\- - - I didn't mean that as a bad thing.  
\- - - Neither did I. You know what they say about rare candies?  
\- - - They say a lot of things about rare candies. Be more specific.  
\- - - Well you know why they're trying to ban them now, right?  
\- - - Something vague and stupid about forced evolution not being the natural order of things?  
\- - - Yeah, not just for pokemon.  
\- - - How do you figure?  
\- - - Have you ever eaten a rare candy?  
\- - - Uh. No.  
\- - - Never even considered it, did you?  
\- - - Can't say I have.  
\- - - Some kids recently tried eating it up in Kanto. Lost their goddamn minds. Ended up being this big debacle. Eventually, certain political parties decided to address a problem, but they knew they couldn't just come out and say it was a drug problem - that might encourage people to try it. They're walking on eggshells, trying to put a stop to this before it becomes a problem.  
\- - - No shit?  
\- - - No shit. It's why I got fired from my last gig. I refused to do anything but be honest about the issue. Always remember this, Nolan. The shame of a man isn't in his actions. We are beasts with pockets. Pockets with monsters in them. The shame is not admitting that.  
\- - - You ever think about trying it?  
\- - - I already have, apparently.  
\- - - What do you mean by that?  
\- - - Well, apparently my parents were really bad parents. And they left their shit all over the place, not thinking about it. And when I was two, a brand new rare candy that had been left on the coffee table somehow looked appetizing to me.  
\- - - Oh no.  
\- - - Oh yes. My mom wanted to call poison control. My dad was too afraid to, given the fact that they would probably take me away from them, and for a pretty damn good reason, you know?  
\- - - Right. Jesus. What happened?  
\- - - What happened? Well, obviously, I survived it. My parents split up and I grew up to be an eccentric journalist.  
\- - - Did you, like, puke it up, or something?  
\- - - Put it this way,

I say, tossing my cigarette butt out the window and rolling it up manually. I look over at him and make eye contact.

\- - - You ask either one of my parents about that. They both hate each other, never want to speak to one another ever again. They disagree on a lot of things, but on this subject, they'll both tell you the exact same goddamn thing.  
\- - - What's that?  
\- - - I didn't turn out right.

I start laughing and digging for the pipe again.


	3. 3

Fucking traffic here is terrible. I've been behind this godforsaken white van for about three hours now. Shit, the slowpoke outside my car is going faster than me. I'm honestly pretty chill on the outside, but on the inside, I'm in a rage. I've got my daughter this pokewhateveritis for her birthday. She wants to go on some adventure with what she hopes is her favorite pocket man thing. She told me to find and catch this Lucario thing, but I'm not about to have my ass in the cold mountains searching for one. The rat thing I got will have to do. I don't think I even caught the little bastard correctly; I kind of beat it to unconsciousness and threw the ball container doohickey at it. It seemed to work. I guess. I never got into the poké trainer field. I'm a janitor by trade, for...Arceus's sake?

Huh.

I don't even know what I worship. I mean, do we humans worship Arceus? Or those time and space weirdos? What about mew and mewtwo and all that jazz? It'd be cool for our god to be weird, like a freaking Pidgey. Hell yeah. That sounds pretty tight.

On second thought, why would I serve a god in the first place?

Well. Bummer may horus.

So that fucking van won't stay still. I can hear the Melvins beating the doors of the kidnapper van. They must be doing oxycontin. No one can stand the Melvins without the oc. I can't blame them either. They seem like good people just trying to get by. Or, at least, that's the bumper sticker portrays. I have that one too.

I call my girl back in Viridian. I says to her I'm gonna be late, and she takes it as nicely as possible by screaming through the phone about how I should've gotten the pokeman earlier and not two days after her daughter's birthday and yada yada yada. I tell her she'll get it when she gets it, and I hang up. I hate it when I dial the wrong number.

The radio is bursting out Sufjan. Some journalist hack named Vernon suggested that shit after interviewing me for a poll on pokephilia. The sickest conversation I had in a while, and somehow it ended with music recommendations. He seemed like good people, so I tried it out. It's in my radio now. Did that answer your question? Are you done?

Why do I argue with you, o great brain of mine? I'm sorry, and I love you.

I just moved the car about three feet. Whoopee.

Progress, bitch.

The van is smoking out the tailpipe like a tobacco smoking Koffing. I honestly don't want to know why.

The rat wakes up in the back and starts saying it's name. I hate that, so I obviously need to drown it out. Bye, Sufjan. Hello, Death Grips. I play the loudest song I can think of, whilst wondering why no one else likes what I like.

It's super effective.

That rat is just covering It's little plebian ears, unable to appreciate the fine art of "teaching bitches how to swim". It can't handle the pure dope beats that rock its little mind apart, and boom. Cleanup on aisle "damn it".

The worst thing is, I have to wait in this traffic to find an exit to go find a store, buy bleach, go buy another pokeman thing ball, find another rat, and get back in the traffic.

Fuck the traffic.

Im going offroad.

"I'M IN YOUR AREA, I'M IN YOUR, YOUR AREA" bursts from the radio as I accelerate at a high pace of 2 mph through traffic and past the white van and into the guardrail. The airbag deploys and the "smart car" shuts down.

I may have inadvertently caused more traffic delays today, but it's fine.

I did O.K.

Right?


	4. 4

When I first read the title of this story it was cool though you should make some chapters with ash and Sabrina as a couple it will get a lot of reviews. - guest.

Alright.

"Oh ash", Sabrina sez, "we're a couple nao."

Cool beans.

"That's all you've got to say?"

Yep.

"Hmmph" she explasticates.

Can I teach you how to swim?

"Fuck off with your rap bullshit. No one cares."

Fine. I've got all the coconuts, bitch.

"Shut up."

"..."

Holy shit, did you see that guy?

"Whoa. He just tore past that white van at 2 mph."

Oh, Jesus, he's in the guardrail. What a tool.

"Heh. I know right?"

Smart car drivers are communists, baby. Remember that.

"I'll keep that in mind love."

Hmm. That van is playing the Melvins. They're probably too high to care about the volume level.

"Ooh, I love the Melvins!"

You would.

"Oh, don't start with me."

This traffic is making me hungry...got any bread?

"Don't you even..."

Fine. I'll make it. It's not like we'll be moving today.

"Pikachu." sez a small voice behind me.

Quiet. My soaps are on.

"Pika?"

No, we aren't there yet.

"Pika-Pi?"

We'll stop at the Marmalade Shack later, buddy.

"You can understand him?" sez my beloved.

No, bitch. Only in some self insert fanfiction would that happen.

"True."

Damn straight.

"Let's get off soon."

Oh, I catch your drift.

"Ash, come on. I meant exit this goddamn highway."

As soon as this van moves, I will.

"Fine."

Oh, and Sabrina?

What do they say when a man loves a pokemon?

"I dunno."

You've gone and fucked up.

"...what prompted that exactly?"

Coconuts.

Ash Ketchum, a 10 year old boy with a driver's license and all the coconuts, in an attempt to escape traffic, uses his car as a battering ram. If it weren't for two brave souls in a white van which stopped the raging Prius, the fate of these poor souls stuck in traffic might have been interesting.

Ah well.

Excuse me while I go screw my pokemon wife. This is generic news man, signing out.


	5. 5

Previous two chapters written by 4223317.

**Seven years later.**

\- - -Is this the only Melvins CD we have? No Stoner Witch or like. Nude With Boots?  
\- - -It's the only CD we have, Vernon. The. Only. One. (1)  
\- - -We should have taken the fucking magnet train tickets. It feels like we've been in this van for seven (7) years or some shit.  
\- - -Can't do drugs on the magnet train.  
\- - -Oh, you can do drugs on the magnet train, Nolan. I've done so many goddamn drugs on the magnet train, man. It'd blow your tits off.  
\- - -Har har. You're being pedantic.  
\- - -The inside of my fuckin' colon itches. No, I get what you mean. Can't smoke on the goddamn magnet train, they throw you off for that shit.

I dig the plastic jug of moonshine out from behind Nolan's seat and thumb the cap spiraling upwards into the floorboard. Whoops, heheh. I'll get that later. Take a swig and dig out a cigarette before lighting it.

\- - -Hey idiot, try not to set us on fire.  
\- - -Sorry, mom. I'll be more careful around flammable things.  
\- - -Thank you, my chile.  
\- - -May I suckle your breast now? Babby Verny hungee. Babby Verny want din-din.  
\- - -Babby Verny better not bite down this time or Babby Verny lose his baby teefs and then he get no quarter.

Nolan makes a crying face at me and I choke on my cigarette smoke with abrupt laughter.  
Dig blindly around the floorboard for the jug cap. Try not to throw up.  
Remember, Vernon. It's just spit. Just saliva. You don't need to puke in the van again.

The sun is setting on Saffron City, and alliteration makes for obnoxious prose.  
Swiper is good people. I dunno if I thought that out loud before. I know I think it sometimes, but it's hard to remember what I think out loud in this here microphone corded to the tape recorder hanging around my neck.  
He can hear me right now, as I'm narrating this out loud. We take turns doing that into our respective tape recorders, though he was smart enough to pack a handheld with microtapes and stuff it in the breast of his flannel. I dunno if he's paying attention while I do this. Perhaps he's just polite enough to let me have my thoughts and never address them? Or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. I assumed this was the case, so I decided to reciprocate. I kind of just black out when he talks into his device and only respond when the narrative directs me to. Kinda funny how my existence of communicative symbols plays out like that.

Anyway, Swiper, we met a while back and kept in correspondence.  
He knows I'm looking for work so he decides to recommend his boss that I go with him on this job.  
He seems to think I have some semblance of responsibility or, dare I shudder upon the speak of it, some kind of talent.  
I'm not going to lie to him, but I'm not going to confess either. Who am I to ruin his fantasy? Let the poor fucker be delusional.  
I may be a raincloud of human feces but I know a parade and when to avoid it.

The van's been rolling at a reasonable pace for quite some time now.  
I'm afraid even noting that will jinx it.

\- - -We got an ETA on The Giovanni Hotel?  
\- - -I don't know, Vernon. You're the navigator. Navigate.  
\- - -Oh, fuck. I uh. Where are we? Have you been reading the signs?  
\- - -No. You're the navigator. Are you telling me you don't know where we are?  
\- - -I. Yes. That's what I'm telling you.  
\- - -Goddamnit dude. Check the map.

Sigh as I dig around the mess of papers some asshole decided to call a road map before he cuts me off.

\- - -I'm just fucking with you, dude. I know where we are.  
\- - -Wh. Y. Hhhh. Fuck you. Fuck your parents. I fuck your parents.  
\- - -That train of thoughts of yours really is a jalopy isn't it.  
\- - -I make your dad fuck me in your old bedroom.  
\- - -I have never lived in my dad's current house.  
\- - -I wear one of your old tee shirts and it's really tight on me. You can see my nipples through it. And my moles.  
\- - -Yeah, uh, they threw all my shit out.  
\- - -He fucks me and I call him daddy and I make him call me son. I make him call me his special little boy before cummies time.  
\- - -Uh huh.  
\- - -After cummies time, we go play catch and he tells me he loves me. He comes to all my baseball games.  
\- - -That's low, you son of a bitch.  
\- - -Too far?  
\- - -An elephant couldn't get you far enough. Not in this swamp.  
\- - -Oh, touche.  
\- - -Watch it, Vernon. This isn't Snatch. No matter how derivative of ourselves we may be on our collaborations, this very much isn't Snatch.  
\- - -Fine, be a goddamn wiener about it. Give me some of that Oxy.  
\- - -I don't have any Oxy. I don't do that anymore.  
\- - -You. What. You were just snorting it off a jewel case.  
\- - -Ah yes, but that was in the past. In the time since then I have run out of Oxy, and since that time I have had my revelations about the heroin closet I want nobody to have to clean.  
\- - -Ah, fuck, man. Good call. I guess growth is not a measurement of time accumulated, but that of the individual decisions one makes moving forward.  
\- - -The silver mouth lubricates the golden fingers for entry. Slowly. Surely. The stretching of god's anus must be gradual, steady. Practiced.  
\- - -Disciplined. For a hasty rush forward may result in perineal tears?  
\- - -Right as the falling godwater.  
\- - -May it nourish, may its moral succulence slather.  
\- - -Forsaken god. Dost thou water thine pastries?  
\- - -Hark. Chic-fil-a?!  
\- - - A mouthful of hatred and an eyeful of ass. Did I tell you about my uncle Jerri?  
\- - -Not then, but now.  
\- - -He called me up and told me he was an ass man. He said it was really really good and he liked it a lot. Then that sum'bitch hung up on me.  
\- - -That sum'bitch hung up on you?  
\- - -Right after tellin' me he was an ass man. Right after telling me ass was really really good and he liked it a lot.  
\- - -Sounds carnivorous.  
\- - -Relentlessly. I found salvation. He? Found more ass. Found enough ass that he got AIDS and died.  
\- - -He died of AIDS?  
\- - -Nawh. He got AIDS, and on the way back home from his diagnosis he was so distracted in his thoughts he stopped paying attention to his surroundings. Poor fucker got hit by a bus.  
\- - -You really think he wasn't paying attention? Maybe he wanted to die. You said he was depressed.  
\- - -Honestly, I don't think it would have stopped him. He would have spread that AIDS like AIDS at an AIDS catching party before his life ended. My uncle Jerri was never too bright.  
\- - -Womp womp. Glad he's dead.  
\- - -I'm glad you're dead.  
\- - -I'm not dead, dude, I'm cleaning out your heroin closet.  
\- - -Fuck. Who's driving the van?  
\- - -Fuck. Who's driving the van.

Fuck. Who's driving the- heroin closet? That was a joke, brain. Why am I digging needles out of dirty jean pockets.  
Are these Nolan's pants? Is he really dead?  
The thing is, I know I'm on drugs, like a lot of drugs, and that my immediate experience with reality is questionable. The question is, which reality is more questionable.  
I could rewind the tape and listen, but that would disrupt my narration and my fingers have melted off my body. Most of my skin is rotten. My brain stem is vibrating whiplash into my spine. The light is flickering and the ceiling extends upwards far beyond the shadows blocking my view of it. Or maybe it isn't there. If it weren't for all the goddamn needles in the pockets of these jeans maybe I could do something about it. Maybe if I had a can or something but the floor itself is slowly becoming a pile of used needles. Some uncorked. There's not a bodily fluid that can come from anything living or dead isn't represented in the smell spectrum. The rainbodor, if you will. Ha, I should write that down. Whoa, is that a tape recorder? Around my neck? Gnarly. That's kind of hilarious, man. What kind of obnoxious shit is that. Who am I talking to..?

...

...

..

\- - -KRRSHT. Anyone here? Over.  
\- - -(**echoes**)Whoaa, Vernon. You don't look so good. Where'd you go?

Aha, I understand this quite perfectly. There's somebody on the outside of this closet trying to administer assistance.

\- - -(**echoes**)Hey, uh. I can't hear you when you talk like that.  
\- - -Did you really just say that to me right now?  
\- - -(**echoes**)...What?  
\- - -Oh, can you not hear me this way either?  
\- - -(**echoes**)No, I- I can hear you, I'm just unsure of what you don't understand.  
\- - -Oh. Hey, uh. I'm uh kinda trapped in a heroin closet right now. That is my existence.  
\- - -(**echoes**)Hello uh kinda trapped in a heroin closet right now. I'm dad.

This sends chills down my spine. My dad is like the last person I wanna talk to while I'm tripping like this.

\- - -(**echoes**)I really can't hear you when you talk like that.  
\- - -I didn't forget, papa. I was just confirming my thought process.  
\- - -(**echoes**)You can't count on that old jalopy.  
\- - -Hey... you're not my dad.  
\- - -(**echoes**)...d y... . . .ly .hi...dad?

Okay, the car thing. I remember the car thing. That's probably real. I'd guess there is no heroin closet but that's sure as shit where my brain took me. He's not commenting on the incoherence of my narrative. And that might not have happened. The information I'm currently being fed is not. Not. Fuck what is that word. inco... Incoherent. Coherent. Er. No. Now that I think about it. Trust...worthy?

\- - -(**echoes**)What did you take?  
\- - -What?  
\- - -(**echoes**)I've seen you smoking weed and drinking moonshine. What did you take? Neither weed or moonshine. Do this. *body flapping* To anyone.  
\- - -Nolan. I think I'm in your heroin closet.  
\- - -(**echoes**)I don't have a heroin closet, Vernon. I'm not dead.  
\- - -Who else would possibly have a heroin closet?  
\- - -(**echoes**)...heroin addicts?  
\- - -I mean. Yeah. Fair.  
\- - -(**echoes**)What are you on?  
\- - -What?  
\- - -(**echoes**)What drugs have you taken?  
\- - -What drugs have I taken?  
\- - -(**echoes**)Yes. Vernon. What drugs. Have you. Taken.  
\- - -Okaaayyyy. Let's see.  
\- - -(**echoes**)Aw, jeez.  
\- - -I took some pot. Smoked a pot. A whole pot of pot. Hahahaahh.  
\- - -(**echoes**)We've ruled that one out, Vernon.  
\- - -There are so many goddamn needles in the pockets of these jeans, buddy. So many. I must have fished out a thousand needles out of these jean pockets, man. Fuckin'. Swimmin' in them.  
\- - -(**echoes**)You godless brain. You ornate piece of savagery. What other drugs did you take besides the pot and the moonshine.  
\- - -Did I quit smoking cigarettes?  
\- - -(**echoes**)Yeah. Like, weeks ago. That's ruled out too, buddy.  
\- - -I didn't take the rare candy yet. Nothing. I didn't take the rare candy yet.  
\- - -(**echoes**)Are you telling me you brought rare candy to eat after telling me that story about how it literally drives people insane?  
\- - -Yes. But I don't think I took it yet.  
\- - -(**echoes**)Well, I mean. Did you bring me one?  
\- - -Yes. It should be in my pocket but my arms have melted off.  
\- - -(**echoes**)If your arms have melted off, how are you pulling needles out of jeans right now?  
\- - -I. Fuck.

Look at my right hand. It looks alien to me, and it's missing some fingers. But it IS there.  
Perhaps my arms melting off wasn't real either. Reach my right hand into the pocket where the rare candies are.  
But I only find one. (1)  
There's only one? (1) One (1) one (1) one (1) one (1) one (1) one (1) one. (1)  
Did I eat the rare candy?  
Pull it out and examine it in my alien looking hand.  
The middle finger and the thumb gone. Like some kind of filthy reverse shocker. Or is that right? That might be right. I'll have to get back to you on that shit.  
I get scared and throw the rare candy with some vigor into the closet wall to my left.  
I can see it phase through the wall, and I can hear it bounce off the rolled up window and off into his face.

\- - -(**echoes**)Fuck, dude! I'm driving!  
\- - -Sorry! I -

I reach out to touch the wall the candy phased through and it stops my hand cold.

\- - -I don't know why I did that.  
\- - -(**echoes**)What's this mime shit you're doing? Stop it, it's weird. And distracting. And weird.

I stop and lean back against the back closet wall and stop doing that because I am embarrassed by my limitations.

\- - -I don't know why I did that.

There's the crinkling sound of plastic and the crunch of candy between human chompy bones.  
All the nerve endings in my face shudder uncontrollably.  
Speaking of the closet wall behind me I check behind me and try to make sure it's not a door.  
It doesn't look like one.  
But suddenly the closet has doubled in size. Still with no door.  
Nolan is here. Yaaayyyy Nolan. Hey Nolan.

\- - -Hey Nolan.

He's looking around at his surroundings but when I speak it startles him and he looks at me, speaks to me.  
Like I'm really here. Like he's really here.

\- - -Whoa, Vernon.  
he says  
\- - -You weren't kidding. That's a metric fuckton of needles. That is a biological weapons grade pile of used and dirty needles. There aren't enough pants or short pants in this whole goddamn closet to pocket produce the pile of needles you're just. You're just sitting in. Bathing in, really.  
\- - -Right?  
\- - -I mean, there's no way this could ever be my heroin closet, honestly.  
\- - -No?  
\- - -Nawh, man. This is lifetimes of heroin.

He's digging around in pants pockets and shoes producing ludicrous amounts of needles. Nolan continues.

\- - -This is a shared heroin closet amongst a single generation at the very least. Whoa.  
\- - -Whoa?  
\- - -This rare candy shit is hardcore. Who's driving the van?  
\- - -Who's driving the van?  
\- - -Who's driving the van?  
\- - -Who's driving the van?  
\- - -Who's driving the van?  
\- - -Who's driving the van?

When the van crashes and the closet light flickers out I find myself tethered to the existence of a dubious other. I see what was, potentially what could have been.  
I see reason is as reason does.

To my left is a cloud of an obscure nature. But I'm sure Nolan's there, too.  
The sun has set on Saffron just outside the city limitations.

It seems like she's thumbing through a CD case.

\- - -Hey, don't you have that Melvins album with Hooch on it?  
\- - -Yeah, should be in there.  
\- - -I don't see it.  
\- - -Look harder, bitch. I'm driving.  
\- - -It had Hooch, and Going Blind and... Houdini?  
\- - -Yeah, it's in there. It's got a two headed dog or some shit on the disc.  
\- - -Yeah, I know the picture. It's not in here.  
\- - - It has to be.  
\- - -Where's the last place you remember listening to it?  
\- - -With you, dumbass in the. Oh no. Oh hell no. Did you leave my goddamn Melvins CD in the other company van?  
\- - -What? I was supposed to grab it?  
\- - -I'm driving! Of course you were supposed to grab it! You were in charge of music!  
\- - -Okay, like. My bad. I'm sorry. I will get you a new one.  
\- - -Nawh. It's fine.  
\- - -Bitch. You know. For a goddamn fact. I will get you a new one now.  
\- - -Whatever.  
\- - -Consider it your punishment for losing your shit. I need your tits calm, baby? Tits that aren't calm? That's an element of chaos I am not even prepared to deal with right now.  
\- - -My tits are calm.  
\- - -They are now. Thanks to Dr. Astrid. You're merry ass is welcome, Mary.  
\- - -Bitch, you a lump. You a lump in my tits, and I just gotta get it checked out from time to time, that's all that is.  
\- - -You know you love me, Toot Princess.  
\- - -Always and forever, Grundle Queen.  
\- - -What the fuck up with this van in front of us? They all swervin' and shit.  
\- - -He probably jackin' off.  
\- - -Ain't nobody jackin' off. They on drugs, though. They drinkin', or on drugs. Absolutely positive.

And the shroud on the road ahead dissipates slowly over time.  
And I see our van from behind, dancing over one line and the other.

Like some kind of dirty van two-step.

And when the van in front of our collective conscious nears the bridge and catches the guard rail at an angle it defies gravity and somersaults into a nearby tree that slaps it back down into the darkness of the ditch beneath.  
And in reaction to this, this Mary obscure, she slams on the breaks in general crash reaction and gut instinct.  
And I jerk against the quick grab response of my safetybelt. But I don't do anything. I just sort of exist astrally outside this Astrid person of dubious integrity.  
And still, I feel the feelings she feels. The emotions and the experiences. I don't hear her thoughts. But her emotions bleed me dry.

There's talk of doing the right thing and we leave the safety of our vehicle.  
Hazards blinking shadows across the dark landscape.

Lead down awkwardly and carefully down into the ditch and towards the wreckage.

But.

When I see my own mangled corpse in the twisted frame of the vehicle. When I see my own body destroyed beyond my obsessively grim imagination.  
When I truly see what became of the me I clung to, well.

That's when I decided to stop existing that way and become something else.


	6. 6

Check my eyes in the compact. They're a little red but whatever. If the attendant asks I'll just say I accidentally jabbed them with a mascara brush or something. The fluorescent lighting in the car dealership makes my face look decidedly skeletal but hey, what are we all if not sacks of flesh sewn tightly around a walking, talking skeleton?

Okay, that's some shit. Remind yourself to cross that out later. You started the opiates way too early on this assignment, Mary.

You also totaled the company car. This will be fun to explain to your boss.

\- - - Grimer.

The Grimer behind the counter points one formless limb at Astrid.

\- - - What, her? Nah, she's fine.

Astrid has taken to burbling and staring at the ceiling. Burbling like letting the saliva pool in the back of her throat and trying to gargle it. Every now and then I'm just checking in on her to make sure that she's not choking.

\- - - She's just practicing her Water Gun.  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - You don't believe me? I guess my Squirtle's human costume is pretty convincing, huh!  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - Yeah, you'd never guess it but that's all hollow. There's a Squirtle in there on stilts with a bunch of pulleys and levers and stuff making it blink and look like it's breathing and shit.  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - Right? I think we're going to be a shoo-in this year at the contests.  
\- - - Grimer.

I don't think they believe me. I don't even have any reason to lie to them; I just suddenly really want someone to believe that my friend is a Squirtle on stilts for some reason? Maybe I can get more ambitious with this. Why stop at one (1) Squirtle? Why not three (3)? Maybe I can convince Astrid to put on a trench coat and just tell people that she's actually four (4) Squirtles that I have trapped in some papier-mâché nightmare, and then I can get arrested. It's all part of my master plan to, uh, get arrested. God, the drugs make me so stupid. If only there was some way I could stop doing them.

At length the human attendant returns.

\- - - Sorry about that. I had really bad diarrhea.  
\- - - Oh.  
\- - - Yeah. Word of advice? Don't buy street coke around here because it's probably cut with Munch-lax©.

He actually doesn't say any of that but I write down that he did because I can write down anything I want.

\- - - Anyway, how can I help you ladies tonight?  
\- - - Well, we heard you rent cars so we came to suck your dick.  
\- - - What?  
\- - - I said we came to rent a car from you.  
\- - - Oh, uh, I thought you said something else.  
\- - - Nope.  
\- - - What kind of car will you be needing?  
\- - - Preferably one (1) with an engine in it. Tires would be nice too.

\- - - Hahaha  
(he laughs politely, obviously not amused at my stupid joke)  
\- - - I meant are you looking for a sedan? A truck? A van?

\- - - Got anything with a cowcatcher on front so I can clear out this fucking gridlock? I mean, it felt like we'd been sitting in that traffic jam for seven (7) years.  
\- - - Um… no.  
\- - - Okay, then just whatever you've got that'll get us from point A to point B, I guess. We're not picky.

He types something into his terminal.

\- - - And how much were you looking to spend tonight?  
\- - - Nah, I've got a company card.  
\- - - Is there any kind of budget you have to stay in?  
\- - - Hey, money's the root of all evil, right? So I'm all for spending it as quickly as possible, especially when it isn't my own money, you know?

I fish in my purse for my pack of cigarettes and light one. He looks at me.

\- - - What?  
\- - - Ma'am, you can't smoke in here.  
\- - - Oh, this? Don't worry: this is an e-cig.  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - You stay out of this.  
\- - - That's obviously a cigarette, ma'am.  
\- - - No, no, really, it's an e-cig.  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - Yeah, same to you, pal.  
\- - - If you don't put it out—  
\- - - No, see, there's nothing to put out. It's an e-cig.

I exhale a huge plume of smoke. The attendant coughs.

\- - - It just looks really realistic, see? Because, uh, technology? You know?  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - God, if only you were a Koffing instead.  
\- - - Ma'am, if you don't put it out immediately, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.  
\- - - You're a polite kid, I'll give you that.

He doesn't take too kindly to me dropping the cigarette on the floor and stamping it out either, but I at least pick it up and put it back in my purse.

\- - - There, see? Now we're all happy. Except me. I have a crushed-ass e-cig in my purse. If it doesn't work anymore, I'm going to have no choice but to leave you a bad review on Yelp.  
\- - - Sure.  
\- - - Well, as long as we're on the same page with that. Now what do you have for us?  
\- - - Hold on: before I can complete this lease, I need some more information from you.  
\- - - Okay.  
\- - - Have you been in any car accidents within the last five (5) years?  
\- - - Yeah, we were just in one (1) today. Otherwise we wouldn't be in here, right?  
\- - - Oh, I'm... sorry to hear that?  
\- - - Yeah, completely totaled the car and shit. You should have seen the other guy, though.  
\- - - Uh...  
\- - - Just kidding, there was no other guy; I rolled it into a tree.  
\- - - Wait, so the accident was your fault?  
\- - - Fault is such an ugly word, you know? I prefer to think of it as a matter of luck.  
\- - - Well...  
\- - - I mean, the tree certainly didn't get out of the way, you know? It had plenty of room in its lane.  
\- - - Miss, I'm sorry but—  
\- - - Oh, so I'm a "miss" now, huh?

The attendant clears his throat, embarrassed.

\- - - I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you're too much of a liability to rent a car to.  
\- - - Why? Because I was just in a car accident? That's bullshit!  
\- - - No, because you caused the car accident.  
\- - - So? I mean, that shit's like getting hit by lightning! It'll never happen twice.  
\- - - More than three thousand (3,000) people die a day in car accidents.  
\- - - And lightning?  
\- - - Sixteen (16).  
\- - - Okay, but how many more from like, people handling their Pikachus without rubber gloves or something?  
\- - - I wouldn't know, ma'am.  
\- - - Back to being a "ma'am," huh?  
\- - - Look, why don't you two (2) just take an Uber wherever you're going? Money's no object, apparently.  
\- - - Clearly you've never fucked a journalist. The car is pivotal. Pivotal. To the operation. See?  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - Hey, I told you to stay out of it. Without a car, we're going to have to rely on cabs and Ubers and Lyfts and shit to show up, pick us up, and take us places. We'll be losing valuable story time, see?  
\- - - And what are you covering, exactly?  
\- - - That Pokémon breeding contest going on at the Giovanni Hotel. Why, you heard of it?  
\- - - What... what exactly about covering a convention will require a car?  
\- - - How do you know it won't?

He doesn't have a response for that. I got him.

\- - - Regardless, it's our company policy to not complete transactions that may endanger our company—I mean our customers.  
\- - - Uh-huh. You know I am a journalist, right?  
\- - - Are you threatening me?  
\- - - I could write an expose on your ass and bust it wide open. Your ass, I mean. Your ass could get spread wide open, uh, by me.  
\- - - Are you sexually harassing me?  
\- - - What? No, no, I only sleep with people who will rent me cars. Where are we on that, by the way?

He sighs.

\- - - Look, ma'am, I'm not going to rent you a car.

Thinking quickly, I push Astrid's limp and frothing body up to the counter.

\- - - What about my friend here? Will you rent her a car?

He looks at her.

\- - - Your friend doesn't seem to be in any condition to drive.  
\- - - Trust me; she's just like that.  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - Hey, don't say anything to him.  
\- - - What?  
\- - - Nothing. Inside joke. My insides are full of them.  
\- - - Well, has she caused any accidents within the last five (5) years?  
\- - - She certainly didn't cause the one (1) today, I can tell you that.

He sighs. I smile at him, and then I lift up the sides of Astrid's face so it looks like she's smiling too. She twitches.

\- - - Pretty please?

Within minutes we're outside waiting on the lot for the car to be driven to us. The sun's set, finally, so the cold air from the dark part of the world is starting to roll in. I look even worse in the dark. Astrid's taken up shivering as a hobby, and she's doing pretty good at it. She holds her hand up to her eye and starts opening and closing it like a claw, staring at it in something like disbelief. I light a new cigarette while still being angry at the wasted one.

\- - - How you doing there, buddy? Crushing my head?  
\- - - Glark.  
\- - - I wish you hadn't eaten that rare candy in the car, man. As your attorney I advise you against doing that in the future.  
\- - - Fleeb.  
\- - - Once we get to the hotel, though, anything's fair game. You know how this goes.  
\- - - Blimbl.  
\- - - Yeah, I agree.  
\- - - Tarb.  
\- - - I wonder if this is like evolution that you're experiencing? Or a sharp increase in power that your body just can't metabolize right away, so all of your synapses are going at once and it's just freaking you the fuck out.  
\- - - Martbar.  
\- - - Watching you go through this, though, is kind of making me regret giving a rare candy to a Pokémon. But you are making up some cool new words.  
\- - - Brindle.  
\- - - Wait, I think that's already a word.

Finally a van pulls up. Even in the dark I can see it's rusted to shit. It stops in front of us. Out pops the Grimer from the driver's seat.

\- - - Hey, what the fuck is this shit?  
\- - - Grimer.

It tosses the keys to Astrid, which she doesn't catch because she is completely unaware of anything happening outside of her own brain right now. I pick them up.

\- - - I can't drive this piece of crap! It could fall apart any second!  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - Yeah, fine. Thanks for fucking nothing, I guess.

Oozing back to the rental car place, they give me a gesture with their kind-of limb I can only describe as the bird. I buckle Astrid into the passenger seat.

\- - - You know, I think that's the first time I've been flipped off by a Pokémon? Hopefully it won't be the last.

The car starts, at least. In the distance the Giovanni Hotel looms ominously above us, portending great things to come. Or something.

No, that's pretty stupid, too. Fuck, I'll edit that out later. Maybe my problem isn't too many drugs, but not enough?


	7. 7

When I open the door to the handicapped stall a masked Pokémon cum bootlegger unloads two (2) barrels from a double barreled shotgun into my tits.  
Back slams against the wall behind me and I fall awkwardly to my left side with hair in my face.  
There's a pool of blood I can feel forming around me.  
I've landed on my purse. I can feel its contents digging into my ribs.

This isn't how I die but it's touch and go for a while.  
Oh, sorry. Spoilers.

Reach out to my attacker as they remove the obscene apparatus from their Ditto-turned Eevee and return it to its Pokéball. I'm not omniscient, but the Eevee turns back into a Ditto, and that's how I know things.

Fingers tremble.  
The weight of my hand causing it to dip as I struggle with gravity.  
They look at me and sigh. They hand me a cigarette and a lighter.

they say  
\- - - Knock next time. Baka...

i say  
\- - - Lock the door next time, asshole.

they say  
\- - - Lock's broken. I'll see you in hell.

That this person will. See me in hell. But not today.  
I lay here for what feels like hours.  
Gurgling through the holes in my lungs.  
Coughing and gagging on my own blood.  
Projectile vomiting. Through my own hair.

There's an onion there, by the door.  
I noticed it on my way in. Huh, onion, I thought.  
Still wonder what it's doing there.  
Who would leave an onion in a public restroom?  
Peeled, even. A peeled goddamn onion.  
To what end, though? For what purpose could someone possibly...?

I should probably stop ruminating on this.  
Wondering. Or considering any or all possibilities.  
Can't imagine my last words regarding an onion abandoned in a bathroom. Something about tits in the jungle, perhaps.

The door of the bathroom opening again catches my attention. Footsteps across the tiles echo through the otherwise quiet toilet room until the approaching shoe noise is met by a pair of legs in a set of red sneakers. A stranger witnesses me gurgle through the dwindling grasp I have on this plane of existence. Observing me. Examining me and studying me under the fluorescent lobby bathroom lights in The Giovanni Hotel during the Pokémon Breeding Convention. Eyelids flutter as the lights flicker or the what is what is muddled.

i say  
\- - - Call a doctor?

she says  
\- - - No.

I should have guessed as much. She makes her way into the middle stall, right across from where my head landed.

She ties something out of my field of vision to the top of the stall to keep it wide open. She drapes her sneakers around her ankles with a small pair of daisy duke cutoff shorts as she sits down. I can only see her from the knees down through my hair, matting with sweat and blood.

she says  
\- - - I've had fantasies since I was a little girl about feeling shit release from my asshole while watching someone die,  
she says  
\- - - There's no way I'm giving up this opportunity.

A sad gasp of air escapes me and pretends it's a laugh. But I'm not really having a laugh, am I?  
Mostly I'm just bleeding from my tits. I think my heart has jarred loose.  
Visions of pale toilet-sat legs in a black fog.

i say  
\- - - Fair enough.  
i say  
\- - - I only accidentally met god today. sarcastically.

She doesn't think I'm as funny as I do.

\- - - What's your name?  
\- - - Astrid.  
\- - - Will anyone miss you once you are dead?  
\- - - Not really.  
\- - - Are you afraid to die?

My body makes sloppy wet shuddering sounds as hers makes noises more akin to spraying ten thousand greased kernels of corn through a wall of tarp.  
Her body is functioning more well than mine.  
Fuck. I wish I was an elephant. Because if I was an elephant, I'd never forget anything and then all you assholes would be fucked for real.  
Unless... animals don't exist in this universe? I was gonna look that up but I forgot.

The flash of a camera splashing across me.

And suddenly I see myself as it does. The pool of blood collecting around my head of my tucked and sprawled figure.  
If you look at the right angle you can see my organs failing. I dunno that the camera captures the majesty of all that.

You'd be forgiven for not watching her wipe her ass while I died, but I do.  
It feels kind of scientific in my brain as more and more blood leaves my wheezing and convulsing body and the little brown stain she leaves on each wad of toilet paper gets smaller and smaller.

It's interesting, seeing things mirror each other in such a capacity.  
But I float away, I guess. I go check on Mary. See what she's up to, I guess.  
She's seeing how close she can get her recorder mic to her interviewee before it bothers them. It's a thing she likes to do.  
She actually brushes his lip at one point and he doesn't say anything about it. Just maneuvers awkwardly away.

\- - - What do you think of Pokécum smugglers and the sexual abuse of Dittos to biologically engineer rarer Pokémon for mass production.  
\- - - Tell you what pisses me off about that, lady. All these goddamn queers and wimminfolk tryna communize Kanto and devalue my goddamn Pokémon collection by taking shortcuts.  
\- - - Ah-hah. You think saving a species from extinction devalues rarer Pokémon.  
\- - - Bet'cher ass it does. Look, if nature and Mother Kanto didn't want rich to be rich, them Pokémon'd fuck on their own and we wouldn't have any gotdamn legendaries.  
\- - - Right. And queers and wimminfolk are against nature.  
\- - - It is a scientific fact that homosexuality is brain dysfunction.  
\- - - Those are big words.  
\- - - I learnt 'em on the Joe Rogan Experience Podcast.  
\- - - I bet you did. Say, if you promise not to speak the whole time I know you, we could probably go fuck in that broom closet. I mean. You're stupid, but you're cute.  
\- - - I am on the path of the extended learnings of teachings on the path of men and the way they aint goin' by females. Men goin' they own way.  
\- - - Jesus Christ, you're MGTOW.  
\- - - I aint never heard it pronounced that way, but Joe Rogan says that feminism is weighted egalitarianism and when you favor bitches over men the natural order of-  
\- - - Yeah, excuse me. I gotta take out my tampon and write EQUALITY IS A DISH BEST SERVED before I run out of period blood on the side of your truck.  
\- - - What.  
\- - - Tampon. Period blood. Icky stuff.  
\- - - You get the hell away from me.

Mary pops another opiate into her mouth and cracks the pill open with her teeth. My brain makes me taste it.  
She's well beyond cognitively giving a fuck about much of anything at this point. She calls to the nearest thing with mildly attractive features.

\- - - Hey, you. Gimme DICK.  
\- - - Excuse me?  
\- - - I'm writing a feature on breeding for the Brainthoughts Contextualized Bisexual Weekly. They hate it when I call it that. It's actually Biweekly. But I pretend it's bisexual because that's fun to me.  
\- - - What kind of shitty small time rag is that?  
\- - - It's based out of Lavender but I don't live there.  
\- - - Too hainted?  
\- - - Not hainted enough. Have you been to that bridge? The murder bridge?  
\- - - No, I don't leave Saffron for poor people places.  
\- - - It's a goddamn bridge. A goddamn bridge!  
\- - - That's about what I imagined.  
\- - - No ghosts. No dead bodies. It's boring. Doesn't even look spooky.  
\- - - That doesn't sound very exciting.  
\- - - It really isn't. Say, you staying at the hotel?  
\- - - Yeah.  
\- - - Staying with anyone? Girlfriend? Wife? I don't see a ring. Are you into cheating on your wife? If you have one.  
\- - - I don't stick my dick in crazy so-  
\- - - Stop right there, whatever you're saying.  
\- - - Hrm?  
\- - - The more you talk the less fuckable you are. Where are you staying.

She can't see the tattoo on his lower back that says MGTOW in elegant and ornate lettering while she's on top of him but she sees it while he's putting his shirt on and cringes silently to herself. She would say something but that would be inviting him to talk so she lights another cigarette and gathers her things.

\- - - You, uh, you can't smoke in here.  
\- - - Gladly,  
she says, exiting to the hallway.

While this is happening I have become a bit more amorphous and goopy, but I have regained enough strength to drag myself across the tile of the bathroom floor.  
There's an unreasonably thick trail of slime behind me and I try to convince myself that it's just smear. But I really should remain body positive and just try not to think about it.  
As the bathroom door widens its existence by means of forced perspective I imagine the look on the poor fuck janitor's face when he sees the mess he has to clean up because of me. I feel bad, so I leave five hundred (500) credits in a mound of slime from the trail and hope some punkass doesn't pick it up and spend it on Seth Rogan DVD's.  
Or worse, Kevin Smith. Or maybe the cheeky little fucker is reading this and they get the double.

I'm distracting myself from the endeavor when the bathroom door opens and hits me in the face. My lower jaw cracks and falls off its hinge and rides a trail of melting flesh down to the floor. A rasping spurt of black goo erupts from the flaps of skin covering my angled throat hole, spraying an obscene fluid all over the feet of whoever just opened the door.

It's Mary, and she doesn't seem to notice the puke, but my hand scrambling around the side of the wooden closemaker.

\- - - What the fuck. Who's blocking the goddamn door.

She steps around me.

\- - - Oh. Astrid. It's you. Have you been in here this whole time?  
\- - - *raspy gurgling noises*  
\- - - Hey, look. I gotta take a shit but would you mind putting on this trench coat and this hat and these glasses and pretending to be three Squirtles?  
\- - - Hhhh. Hhhh. Hhhhh.  
\- - - Yeah, dude, you look perfect. Try saying "Squirtle squirt!"  
\- - - Ggghhgghghggh. *more projectile vomiting*  
\- - - No, Squirtles, that's Water Gun. It's good, but we need to work on your training, eh? I'll be right back.  
\- - - Hhhhhh.

Out in the lobby what presents itself as THE MANAGER tells me I am not allowed to leave slimetrails on the expensive carpeting.  
I think he thinks I'm some kind of Pokémon, because he calls security to help him figure out the logistics of restraining me within a Pokéball.  
It doesn't seem to be working, and maybe it's because I'm still somewhat human.  
But perhaps not.  
I've never tried to capture a human inside of a Pokéball. Do Pokéballs work that way?

\- - - Excuse me, what's going on here?

It's Mary. She's either shit in an instant or time is folding in on itself.  
Probably the latter.

\- - - Ma'am, is this your Grimer? It's making a mess on some very expensive carpeting and we can't seem to capture it inside this here Pokéball in fact.  
\- - - You can't capture it inside of a Pokéball because that's not a Grimer of course,  
she sez, she sez,  
\- - - That's three Squirtles in an overcoat.


	8. 8

Morning comes like the guy who you picked up at the bar after three (3) glasses of wine and last call and he kept shouting "Just the tip! Just the tip!" in the backseat of your car, which is to say too soon. That was very clever. I am the queen of cleverosity. Actually that guy did not come too soon; I couldn't get him to come soon enough, so when he did prematurely pop off, it was like, _Thank_ you, Arc*us. Or whatever legendary I'm supposed to be praying to. I was raised a strict Kantotrioian but times and attitudes change.

Anyway, my mouth tastes like mouth and my head feels like it got stuck in a ringing Bronzong and our hotel room looks like a few Electrodes went off in it so all in all we probably had a good night or something.

\- - - Hey Astrid,  
I call out. No reply.

There's running water in the bathroom, which is either a really great sign of life or a really funny story to tell housekeeping. I mean, funny for me, much less funny for housekeeping.

\- - - Hey Astrid!

I repeat as I push the door open. She's in the bath, smoking a cigarette, as alive as she's ever been, possibly more, and the water is running over the edge and spilling all over the floor. So I guess it turned out to be both.

\- - - What?  
\- - - How you feeling?  
\- - - Like ten (10) pounds of bag in a five (5) pound shit.  
\- - - And how's your body? Any more evolved than before?  
\- - - Nah,  
she turns to look at me and her eyes are a lovely shade of red.

\- - - Arc*us keeps pressing B on me, that petty bitch.  
\- - - The pettiest. You, uh, want some time?  
\- - - I don't know what I want,  
she says. And she stares up at the ceiling.

\- - - That's fair! Take your time. I'm gonna find something to, like, vomit into.

So I turn away and go out into the hotel room. It's a hotel room. I mean, the remarkable thing about it is that it's trashed. Otherwise it wouldn't be a shitty hotel room. Outside it's eleven (11) in the morning, and the commuter gridlock never stops here. That's my scene setting for you.

The ice bucket's been tipped over onto the floor and it turns out that there was already vomit in it, so I add some of my own. Unless the vomit was already mine, to which I'm adding more of it. The vomit in the ice bucket is purple, and mine is slightly less purple. I guess that solves the mystery.

Somehow there's a No Smoking sign that survived the onslaught. It's still on the table like an old NPC in Viridian City lying in the path and whining about coffee, so I pick that shit up and drop it in the ice bucket too. And then I light a cigarette.

That's just the kind of shit I do.

My eyeballs feel like eyeballs, and the sting from my cigarette doesn't make them feel not like eyeballs. I've become one of those people who can smoke hands free. I never thought I would get here, but I made it.

Astrid's out of the bath wearing all of the towels that were in the bathroom like a big towel ball. One of them's not even wrapped around her body; it's just stuffed into one of the others and is mostly hanging off her.

\- - - You can't save all the Cubchoos,  
she says.

I pull out my purse.  
\- - - You wanna do some Ether?  
\- - - Sure. What's that do again?  
\- - - Restores your PP.  
\- - - I like that. I could use some more PP.  
\- - - You and me both.

This is kind of like a nice interlude. Astrid turns on the TV and it's automatically set on that channel where they just play Bach and Vivaldi over the same carousel of flowery fields. It's not bad but it never does what it's supposed to do, for me. I don't really know what it is supposed to do.

I produce the small bottle from my purse, pink like tummy time syrup. It's got a valve on top for easy access.  
\- - - How do you do this? Just plug a nostril and snort it?  
\- - - That's the ticket to ride.

Smells strong and sharp, like tape cleaner. In fact, if our brains were VHS tapes, they would be clean right now. Mine's probably a bootlegged broadcast of some Teenage Mutant Ninja Squirtles episodes, commercials and all, and Astrid's like a whole season of PsyduckTales. The Ether told me. It tells me things now that I have more PP.

\- - - I think I'm ready to go talk to some people who watch Pokémon fuck for a living now,  
she says.  
I say,  
\- - - Cool because I guess that's what we were here to do or something.  
\- - - Do you hear that noise?  
\- - - Hear what noise?  
\- - - It sounds like annoying.  
\- - - Is it my voice?  
\- - - No, a different kind of annoying.  
\- - - Hm. Is it my voice?  
\- - - No, I just said—I think your phone is ringing?

I look in my pockets. There isn't anything there.

\- - - Well it can't be my phone, because my phone isn't here.  
\- - - Oh?  
\- - - Yeah, I guess I must have dropped it somewhere.  
\- - - Maybe you dropped it in this room and that's why I can hear it.  
\- - - I guess that's a possibility, right?  
\- - - Sometimes I'm a possibility.  
\- - - Truer words have never been spoken, Astrid.

Under one (1) of the beds is a phone. My phone. (1) phone, mine. It is ringing.

\- - - You're right, Astrid. That sound _is_ annoying.  
\- - - I feel like there's something you can do about it if you really put your mind to it.

I pick up the phone.

\- - - Hello, this is me.  
\- - - Hello, this is your fucking boss! I've been calling you for two Arc*us-damned hours now! What the fuck did you do to the company van?!  
\- - - I don't know. What _did_ I do to the company van?  
\- - - Oh for fuck's sake, are you high right now?  
\- - - Not high enough; I just woke up.  
\- - - For fuck's sake, Mary.  
\- - - You said that already.

There's an audible hissing noise as my boss implodes.

\- - - You can't be fucking serious.  
\- - - Hey, man, I'm about as serious as a Rotom, I mean...  
\- - - Mary, I don't have time for this shit.  
\- - - ...if you ever think about the war between believers in evolution and intelligent design, all you have to do is point out Rotom because who the fuck would design that.  
\- - - _Mary_.  
\- - - I mean it looks like any number of appliances with a buttplug stuck on it. Why does it do that?  
\- - - Mary, if you give any kind of a shit about your job, you'll get your ass downstairs and covering the damn convention in the next fifteen (15) minutes, y'hear?  
\- - - Okay, boss.  
\- - - And I'm docking your pay for what you did to the company van.  
\- - - I still don't know what you're talking about? What, did I get a sick paint job on it without your permission?

But then my boss hangs up.

And it actually takes us forty-five (45) minutes to get downstairs, if you're wondering.


	9. 9

\- - - That bitch took a shit while watching me die.

I've mastered the art of disassociating the image of my face from the sum of its parts in the bathroom mirror.  
The pores and the cute little wriggly microbes and parasites. They're just trying to get by. I respect that.  
But my ***_pores_*** though. They're so ***_small_***. I bet I most beautiful pores in the whole Arc*usdamb world.

\- - - What did you say?

Mary asks, from the ether that is the Not Bathroom.  
Speaking of which, I snoot a toot. Vee hee hee...

\- - - I said my PORES ARE GOOD you stupid bitch.  
\- - - Dude I bet you have the smallest most beautiful pores in the whole Arc*usdamb world!  
\- - - That's what I said! I said I bet I have the smallest most beautiful pores in the whole Arc*usdamb world! But like! I said it in my brain!  
\- - - What?  
\- - - What?  
\- - - WHAT DID YOU SAY?  
\- - - I SAID THAT'S WHAT I SAID, I SAID I BET I HAVE THE SMALLEST MOST BEAUTIFUL PORES IN THE WHOLE ARC*USDAMB WORLD! BUT LIKE! I SAID IT IN MY BRAIN.  
\- - - OH! HAHA! I GUESS THAT'S WHY I COULDN'T HEAR IT HUH! HAHA!  
\- - - Probably!  
\- - - Oh, hey! I'm gonna need you to wear an overcoat!  
\- - - Why do I need to wear an overcoat..?  
\- - - Because you're three (3) squirtles now!  
\- - - Three (3) squirtles,

I say, looking closer at my reflection in the mirror, trying to reassociate my face, or the appearance of my face because I could have goddamn sworn I was Astrid.  
To my unexplainable horror, she was wrong and I was right. I'm not three (3) squirtles at all. I'm stupid Astrid.

\- - - AAAAAA. MARY.  
\- - - Hold on, I'm getting the vomit off my skirt. Er, uh, your skirt. I'll be there in a second.  
\- - - MARY I'M ASTRID.  
\- - - Yeah you are, sweetie.  
\- - - THE MIRROR IS MAKING ME ASTRID INSTEAD OF THREE (3) SQUIRTLES. I HAVE TO STOP IT.  
\- - - Do what needs to be done, I'll be there in a sec to help out.

I panic. I can't wait that long. More importantly, I can't let *her* see me like this. I can't let Mary down by being Astrid instead of three (3) squirtles!  
I have to act fast. I have to act *now*.  
So I do this, and I'll tell you what I do. I do a quick recon - that means look around the room in Foxhole. I see the toilet seat. Yes. That will destroy the mirror.  
That will destroy the mirror real good.

I reach for the seat and tear it off like the beast that rages in my passion for writing this shit.  
That is to say, it doesn't, and I don't. I mostly dishevel the seat and the open lid into an awkward position and my momentum carries my back into the counter under the mirror wall.  
I must not look. I *_**will**_* not give into that Arc*usforsaken thing's evil powers. I snatch the toilet paper roll from the dispenser, snapping the plastic springloaded device keeping it in place and spike the thick cylinder into the toilet bowl. Splashing myself with toilet water.

I'm angry.  
I cross my arms because I'm angry.

I turn my head away from the toilet towards the wall next to the toilet, to assert the fact that I'm *not* acknowledging it. The toilet. No acknowledgment from me, three (3) squirtles, not Astrid.  
There is a moment of silence.

\- - - Mary, would you PLEASE tell the toilet that I'm not currently on speaking terms with it?  
\- - - Okay! Flush it, crapmuncher, she doesn't wanna talk to you! How's that?  
\- - - Thank you.

I wait for the toilet to respond. To get angry or sad, to say something. To show that it *_feels_* something for me. That it's hurt I won't talk to it or something.  
But it does nothing of the sort! The rube! The ***_idiot_***!  
The toilet's cold porcelain gaze throttles me at my core. *Strangles* me. I can't express how upsetting it is that the fucking toilet is ignoring me. I mean the ***_nerve_*** of that fucking thing!

\- - - MARY.

I look out the bathroom door into the ether that is the Not Bathroom and I don't see anything. Not Mary, not anything.  
But if I squint...  
Is that...?

It's a bag of mixed nuts. Or a grocery bag. Or maybe it's a wad of bleeding lung tissue that's still breathing and wheezing my name, wheezing something like;

\- - - HEY ASTRID DO YOU REMEMBER THAT ONE TIME YOU WERE BREATHING WEIRD AROUND THAT GUY YOU THOUGHT WAS CUTE AND HE LOOKED AT YOU FUNNY? HAHA, YEAH, THAT WAS PROBABLY DISGUST, YOU ARE DISGUSTI-

I've mastered the art of cutting off the thoughts I don't want to have just after their message has been explicitly delivered.  
Which is pretty good, honestly, considering it repeats itself eight or nine times and I move onto something else that's upsetting to me.

I look at the toilet again, but by accident.  
In all of its smugness, it exudes the fact that it thinks it has won. In my shameful anger I kick the stupid thing at the lid and at least two of my toes are bleeding as the seat flaps against the rim in a note cruel enough to fill the room full of laughter. I tumble under the sink counter and bump my head on a pipe. I snoot another toot because Arc*usdambit, I'm not going to take shit off waste recycling. Waste recycling isn't going to take the piss out of me, no sir. It's time to get serious.

I study the toilet's habits, and before I can react, it's time to strike. But luckily, when I get around to it, it's still time to strike.  
I hit my head on the underside of the counter and the ache in my head starts to throb like it does in my vagina does from my imagination as opposed to what happens in reality. I scoot forward before snooting another toot.

I'll put a stop to the progression of a whole team with one snorlax is what I'll do, and that's why I grabbed the tank lid off the toilet and spinhurled it into the mirror and was is am met with what I can currently only describe as a small torrent of the physical manifestation of disappointment.

Apparently that's what you get for thwarting evil. But heroes don't wear capes, they stop rapes. And smash evil Arc*usdambed mirrors with the hats of BAD FRIENDS!  
Anyway. The reward of doing good is more important than the reward *for* doing good. That's what my momma always used to say, and that's what Mary and I say to each other.  
But that's not what she says when she comes out of the ether of the Not Bathroom and into the bathroom.  
In fact she doesn't say anything about goodness at all.

She says;

\- - - Why are you taking a dump in the toilet tank?  
\- - - Because it *_crossed_* me.  
\- - - The toilet tank?  
\- - - The ***toilet***. That sumbitch crossed me. With its oppressive stare.  
\- - - So you're crapping in the tank. And you broke the lid smashing this mirror, I presume?  
\- - - Yes. That is what happened. I had to stop myself from being Astrid so I could be three (3) squirtles in whatever coat you wanted me to wear.

I think I'm coughing up blood into my hands but I try to smile at her. And then I do.

\- - - Oh.  
\- - - What? I'm three squirtles, right?  
\- - - Uh. Yes. You are three (3) squirtles right now. All you need to do is put on this overcoat.  
\- - - Thanks I worked really hard on being three (3) squirtles.  
\- - - I can tell!

That bitch doesn't even know I've been three (squirtles) 3 this whole time.

\- - - Hey, why don't you toss me that toilet paper! I chucked it in the toilet, haha.

I'm pointing so she knows. She grabs a still wrapped roll of complimentary toilet paper and tosses it well within my catching zone. She also indicated several times that she was going to toss it to me, and I nodded at her until she stopped doing that.  
But when she threw it at me, I didn't try to catch it, and it bounced off my tits and splashed toilet water on me. I say that last bit in past tense because it didn't quite register until right now, and if I'm being honest, I'm kinda fucking offended.

\- - - Why would you throw toilet water at me?  
\- - - I tossed you a roll of toilet paper after telling you several times I was going to toss you a roll of toilet paper and you didn't catch it. Would you like me to hand this one to you? You said no last time, for some weird reason.  
\- - - No, I can catch it. Try again.

I keep wondering about M*w shit, and how I bet it looks and smells like creampuffs. I bet they don't smell bad, if they don't smell like that. I'm not saying I'm into the smell of poop or anything, but I can't imagine trashir turds coming out of that thing.  
But then I get splashed with toilet water.

\- - - Mary, what the fuck!  
\- - - You were looking right at me that time! Look, I'm handing this to you.

She hands me the toilet paper by stuffing it into my hands, and then taking it away and unwrapping it for me, and then stuffing it in my hands again.

\- - - You will know what to do with this. 

* * *

\- - - You will know what to do with this.

Mary has forced something into my hands, and I know pretty good not to drop things she puts in my hands, or else I break them, at least most times.  
But not this one. It falls from my hands and toilet water splashes on me.

\- - - I really hope that thing is clean I say.  
\- - - What's that? I only understand squirtle!  
\- - - Squirtle squirt! [honestly i feel like i'm having a really bad day and i've made it way worse with drugs and alcohol and arc*us knows what else and i'm tired and wait how do the other squirtles feel?]  
\- - - They feel great!  
\- - - Squirt squirt squirtle! [yeah, i guess they do feel pretty good. say, where are we going anyway?]  
\- - - Mary doesn't know! We're going on an adventure somewhere dude I dunno what else to tell you.  
\- - - Squirtle squirt! Squirtle squirt! [did you throw up on my clothes or did i? i don't remember.]  
\- - - I have no idea, if I'm being honest.  
\- - - Squirt! [yeah i don't really care if i'm being honest, i was just curious. amazed you're still wearing them.]  
\- - - Man I'll rock the shit out of some vomit stains I don't give a fuck. I already have this on.  
\- - - Squirt squirtle squirt! Squirtle Squirt! Squirt! Le! [i'm not gonna lie, you *do* look good in everything.]

Mary winks at me and I use my top squirtleflipper to push the sunglasses down my not nose so I can wink back.  
I push them back up my not nose.

\- - - Squirtle squirt! 

* * *

\- - - This is my four (4) squirtles in an overcoat!

Mary says, gesturing towards me.

\- - - I need to get her, er, *them* into an underground fighting ring so I can absolutely not write about it for a magazine so I uh, don't profit off of the criminal underbelly of us, the rockets.

If I haven't described it yet, she's stapled red R's to my vomit stained clothes.

\- - - You mean the Rockets,  
he says.

Mary blinks at him, taking a second to register what the difference is.

\- - - Yes, the Rockets. Now, I was told to report to you. You know. For location.  
\- - - Is that puke on your clothes?  
\- - - What a nice collarbone you have. Did you know what a nice collarbone you have?  
\- - - Oh, hahaha, I dunno about that.  
\- - - Listen. You're all I ever dreamed of, atsettera. I need locations, names, places to be. Only then can my passion for dick and your passion for effortless sex collide, yeah?  
\- - - Well, I mean. That doesn't even look like a squirtle, and-  
\- - - Squirtle! [my sense of self is displacing! i thought i was three (3) squirtles! now to my understanding i am four (4) squirtles! am i growing in number of squirtles?! am i getting taller?!]  
\- - - That IS what squirtles say...  
\- - - Just give me the information. You believe me.  
\- - - Squirtle! [oh my arc*us i'm getting taller. more squirtles are adding to my whole. my head is in the ceiling. MY HEAD IS IN THE CEILING. OH MY ARC*US. MARY. MY HEAD IS IN THE FUCKING CEILING.  
\- - - Yes, your head is in the ceiling, dear.  
\- - - What?  
\- - - Just write down the fucking address and stop talking and I'll suck your dick later, okay?

Mary asks, spraying me down with Colbur Berry.

\- - - Uh yeah, okay.  
\- - - Squirtle [i am confused about the accumulative personality of my being as three squirtles in an overcoat at this time. who are we?]  
\- - - That IS what squirtles say,

he says, writing down the address of a rental car place we've previously been to and handing it to Mary.  
She smiles at the paper and kisses him on the cheek.

\- - - I'll be back, stud. 

* * *

Next thing I know, we're all in some kind of vehicle I don't understand.

\- - - Squirtle.  
\- - - I don't know what you meant by that.  
\- - - Squirtle. [i didn't know either, i just said it because i felt like i should say something.]  
\- - - Pick a CD would you? I'm driving.

I put WE WERE DEAD BEFORE THE SHIP EVEN SANK by MODEST MOUSE in and she sighs, disgusted.

\- - - Ugh. Johnny Marr, what were you thinking.  
\- - - Squirtle! 

* * *

\- - - Hey, there's no smoking in here.  
\- - - This? This is an e-cigarette, you can smoke this in government buildings.  
\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - You fucking stay out of this, you asshole.  
\- - - Squirtle.  
\- - - Didn't I rent you two a car earlier?  
\- - - Yeah but we didn't know you were Team Rocket.

Mary gestures at the R's on her outfit and the R on my coat.  
Grimer narrows his eyes.

\- - - Grimer.  
\- - - Yup, the R's check out. Follow me to the back room over here.  
\- - - Squirtle!  
\- - - Grimer!  
\- - - No need to fight guys, hahaha, let's just follow this unquestionably hot fellow to his dirty secrets, yeah?

I'm not growing in squirtles anymore but he leads us to a cage match where a meowth is getting burnt to a crisp by a charizard.  
I try to say something.

\- - - Squirtle.  
\- - - That's nice, squirtles. You all look very nice in that overcoat.  
\- - - Are you saying you want your squirtles to go next?  
\- - - No, I-  
\- - - Squirtle! Squirtle squirtle!  
\- - - Okay, get your assess in there.

Despite that not being what I said at all, and Mary trying to stop him, he pushes me into the cage and locks it behind me, with some effort.  
He uses several chains and locks and winks at me.

\- - - Good luck out there!  
\- - - I, uh, sorry?  
\- - - Grimer!

I look forward and there's a Voltorb. And it's already gathering electricity and ready to blow.

\- - - Squirtle,

I try to say,

but it's too late,

everything goes white...

* * *

.

...

.

...

...

... 

* * *

I'm screaming at the image of my face in the mirror and I don't know why.

\- - - Why are you screaming at your face? What could possibly be *_that_* scary? I've seen it, it's fine.

Mary's voice comes in from the ether of the Not Bathroom.  
And I giggle to myself as I snoot a toot.

\- - - Squirtle!  
\- - - What? Look, we gotta leave now. Stop staring at yourself in the mirror and get the fuck out here.

I notice myself in the mirror, the sum of its microbes and its pores and its parasites and I start to scream.  
I punch the vision of me and it spiderwebs into a million (1,000,000) of me and I starts to scream.

But a hand grabs me on the top squirtleflipper and yells

\- - - Let's go!

And to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure how many squirtles I am right now.


End file.
